Funny Little Brains
by OnyxDay
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson meet in First Year at boarding school. This is the story of how they met, fell in love, and ultimately lost each other, only to find each other again.


**This has sat in a journal for about a year or so. It's time I dusted it off and showed you guys. **

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"Hello everyone! My name is Miss Oswald, I'm your teacher this year. Welcome to first year!" A cheery blonde teacher greets the class, leaning against her desk. "I'm going to go around the room and ask everyone to introduce themselves. I want you to say your first and last name, how old you are, and one interesting thing about you. I'll go first, it's only fair. My name is Miss Oswald, and as far as you're concerned, by first name is Miss. I'm a teacher and I graduated from King's College. I've got a younger brother named Tony that just went of to Uni to become a doctor in History." Miss Oswald introduces herself. "Now, let's start with you, in the back. What's your name dear?" The small blonde with hazel eyes points at the tall, gangly boy sitting in the back corner of the room. He looks up when he realizes she must be talking about him, his dark brown curls falling into his wide grey eyes. He stands up and clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I am eleven as of January this year, and I can tell you your life story with one look." With that brief, but interesting, introduction he sits back down and watches everyone else stare at him.

"Well, isn't that… nice. Let's move on. You there, in the lovely pink hoodie." Miss Oswald points to the petite blonde girl with a ponytail sitting a few desks away from Sherlock. She beams at the class and jumps up.

"Hi! I'm Janie Smith. I'm eleven in September. Um, I've got a pet chinchilla named Mr Nibbles." Janie sits back down and Sherlock bites back a snort at the predictable name for her pet. The boy beside her stands. He's wearing a dark green t-shirt and ripped jeans, his dark hair cut close to the scalp. Sherlock instantly dislikes him, knowing a bully when he sees one.

"My name is Michael Brentwell. Micheal, not Mike or Mikey, or any other nicknames you can think of. I've got two older brothers named Luke and Matt, one of them is in year five, the others at Uni." He sits down and the next two people stand. They're twins, both of them wearing light blue jumpers and dark wash jeans. Their dark blonde hair is cut in the same shapeless mop of a style.

"My name is Jake." The first twin says.

"My name is James." The other one says.

"We're eleven and we're twins." They tell the class in perfect synch. The next girl stands up when they sit down. She tugs at her dark purple dress and tucks a stray brown curl behind her ear.

"H-hello. My n-n-name is M-m-morgan S-s-s-samuels. I'm t-t-ten an-nd I had an ac-ac-accid-dent when I w-was f-f-f-five." She sits back down quickly and hides her face, which is now bright red, in her arms.

"Okay, class. You heard her. Be nice, and try to help her out when you can. Head injuries are very serious and they can leave permanent damage, like her stutter. If I find out any of you are making fun of her for something which is out of her control, you will be sent to the office." Miss Oswald informs the class. Morgan ducks her head and tries to make herself as small as possible.

The next boy stands up, dragging Sherlock's attention from the shy girl. He has short blonde hair and is wearing a knitted cream jumper.

"Uh, hello, my name is John Watson. I'm nearly twelve, late birthday and all. Um, I'm not that interesting." A few of the students laugh, though it's obvious he wasn't trying to be funny. "Um, I've got an older sister named Harriet, but she goes by Harry." He shrugs and sits back down. The introductions continue, but Sherlock is focused on John. There's something about him that catches his eyes. He filters out the rest of the introductions, focusing on the small boy in the cream jumper (Marion Pullman, eleven, wants to be an actress). John has a secret (Dean Wesson, ten and a half, wants to be a fireman when he grows up). But what was it? (Dinah Wesson, ten and a half, twin sister of Dean, wants to own a bakery) If only he could get closer (Martha Smith, no relation to Janie, eleven, cat named Miss Kitty Fantastico recently died from cancer). But that would mean leaving his corner, which he wasn't prepared to do. (Derek Graywell, eleven and a half, has a baby sister names Sheryl that was born last week) He looks up and notices the last person introduced themselves.

"Okay class, now that we've all introduced ourselves, let's get down to business." She winks at the class and smiles kindly. "Since this is your first day, we're just going to go around and get to know each other, learn the class rules, and set up a class system." Miss Oswald tells them, hopping onto the desk and crossing her black slack covered legs. "First, I will not tolerate bullying of any kind. Verbal, mental, or physical. Second, everyone in this class is equal. I don't care who you are outside of my classroom, in here you will treat your classmates as your peers. Third, have everything you need out. I'll have all of our activities on the board when you come in, so be prepared for what we'll be working on that day." Sherlock tunes out the rest of the rules, certain that they will be like every other set of rules he's ever heard. His attention drifts back to John, and he finds himself staring at the back of his head, trying to figure of the puzzle that is John Watson.

"Okay, class, go around and introduce yourself." Miss Oswald calls, pulling Sherlock away from his puzzle.

Morgan sits down in the empty desk in front of him and offers her hand. Sherlock takes it and shakes it once, his eyes narrowing.

"It wasn't an accident." Are the first words exchanged between them. Morgan's green eyes widen in surprise.

"Your head injury wasn't caused by an accident. It was your father, he beat you, starting from age five until a year ago. He only stopped because he walked out, leaving your mother alone to care for you and your baby brother. For some reason you feel that it was your fault that your father beat you. It wasn't, and it's frankly idiotic to think that way. Your father was obviously an alcoholic and most likely slightly mentally deranged. You were an easy outlet for his anger, unlike your mother you couldn't fight back. It makes no sense to blame yourself for that, the only one at blame is your father. He's the one that beat his only daughter, he's the one that walked out on his family. No point in wasting your energy on something out of your control." Sherlock tells her. Morgan's eyes are filled with tears, but she smiles a bright smile at him.

"Th-thank you." Morgan tells him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a brief hug. Sherlock stiffens at the gentle touch, not knowing what he had said or done to deserve thanks, much less a hug. Morgan wipes her eyes and leaves, letting the next curious person come up to him.

"Hello! You're Sherlock, right?" Janie asks as she sits down.

"Obviously." Sherlock answers, her cheery demeanor upsetting him for some reason.

"So, is it true that you can tell someone's life story?" She asks him. He nods. "Can you show me?" She requests, smiling. Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes.

"If you insist." She grins wider and Sherlock trains his light eyes on her, letting them flicker over her body and take in everything. "You have quite a few friends, a lot of them go here. Your best friend, something that starts with an 'F', possibly Felicity, moved away recently. You had a big fight before, you left her alone on an important date, possibly some sort of anniversary. Her birthday? You feel guilty about it, but you haven't called her. Would you like to me continue?" Sherlock asks her. Janie scowls at him and backs away.

"You're a freak." She hisses at him as she leaves. Sherlock relaxes into his chair, hoping to be able to get a reprieve from all of this socializing. Alas, his wishes do not come true, as Marion slides in to the seat next to him.

"Hi Sherlock!" She smiles and waves at him. Sherlock sighs and turns to look at her.

"I assume you would also like me to tell you things you already know?" He says. Marion blushes and ducks her head, which Sherlock knows means yes. "Very well. You want to become an actress, not for fame or money, but so that you can escape. Your mother is an alcoholic and your father's work rarely leaves him time to stay home. Some sort of traveling salesman I presume. Your older sister was able to leave and move to America for University, though I would presume she was accepted in universities closer. You would like to join her, but you know your parents would never let you. So, you want to become an actress and move to America." Marion leaps up from her chair and walks away, muttering 'weirdo' under her breath.

"Hello Sherlock!" The twins greet him, waving. "Can you tell who's who?" They ask, tilting their heads to the side at the same time.

"The one on the left is Jake, and the one on the right is James." Sherlock answers without hesitation. The twins exchange a shocked look.

"How can you tell?" Jake asks.

"We usually have to tell people." James adds.

"It was simple, Jake is left-handed and James is right-handed." Sherlock replies. Their brows furrow.

"But, how did you know." James prompts.

"I noticed your hands when you introduced yourselves. Jake showed clear signs of being left-handed, and you showed clear signs of being right-handed. This most likely developed due to you remaining beside each other when you learned to write, consequently causing one of you to use your other hand. I was able to tell who was who because when you waved I saw the signs I noticed before. Therefore, you are James and he is Jake. Simple." Sherlock explained. The twins grin at him.

"Cool!" They exclaim as one.

"We have a feeling" "That you're going to" "Be a good friend" "To have at parties." The twins switch off the sentence as if it was practiced, though it obviously wasn't. They turn and leave, Michael taking their place.

"I'm Michael." He says.

"Yes, I know. I'm Sherlock in case that little detail managed to escape your tiny mind." Sherlock snaps. He had no patience for bullies.

"So..." Michael starts.

"Stop." Sherlock interrupts him. "I know you're going to want me to deduce your life story. Your family is poor, they have been since your father lost his job at the garage. You don't want anyone to know because you believe they'll think less of you. It wouldn't matter, they couldn't think less of a cockroach like you if they tried. Perhaps if you didn't bully people you think are weaker than you they would like you. Of course, you bully them because you feel inferior yourself, and you feel inferior because your father says you are. Though, he can't talk, he got fired from a garage." Sherlock informs Michael. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize that he just made himself 'Public Enemy Number One' in Michael's eyes. As the bully leaves he hooks one foot around the leg of Sherlock's chair and tugs, causing it to tip over. Sherlock catches himself on his palms before he hits the floor, though that doesn't save him from the chair landing hard on his legs.

"Are you okay?" A voice asks, offering a hand to help Sherlock up. He takes the hand and looks up to see who his 'savior' is. John Watson's dark blue eyes glint back at him. Sherlock stands and looks down at the slightly shorter boy.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." Sherlock answers, dusting himself off and reaching down to pick up his felled chair.

"Are you sure?" John asks, his eyes scanning Sherlock's body, as if looking for some unseen injury. Sherlock huffs and nods, sitting back down in his seat. "Michael's nothing but a bully. I heard him making fun of Morgan when she was talking." John growls, glaring at Michael as he talks to Derek.

"What are you hiding?" Sherlock blurts. John turns his gaze back to him and blinks in confusion.

"I'm not hiding anything." John tells him. Sherlock frowns.

"Yes, you are. You don't even realize you're doing it." Sherlock tells him, his frown deepening. "Your mother is an alcoholic, and you're worried your sister is going to be one too. Your father doesn't know, and you don't want him to. You like jam, you hate unnecessary violence. You want to be a doctor, but you also want to be in the military like your father. You'll most likely become a military doctor then. You're right handed, but you shoot with your left like your father. And you are hiding something!" Sherlock says, frustrated. John's eyes widen.

"That was... amazing." He breaths. Sherlock's eyes widen and his brow furrows.

"Do you think so?" He asks the blonde boy.

"Of _course_ it was! It was extraordinary! It was quite extraordinary!" John answers.

"That's not what people usually say." Sherlock tells him.

"What do they usually say?" He asks, his brows raising in question.

"'Piss off'!" Sherlock answers off-handed. "That wasn't even my best work, I still can't figure out what it is you're hiding."

"You'll figure it out." John reassures him, smiling. Sherlock smiles back slightly. John waves as he walks away and Sherlock retreats into his mind-palace. He ignores anyone who sits next to him, and eventually Miss Oswald calls them back to order. Sherlock returns to the world surrounding him to focus on what she is saying.

"Okay, let's share one thing that you learned about someone." Most everyone raised their hand. "John, why don't you start." She called. The blonde boy stands and blushes slightly at the attention.

"Uh. I learned that Sherlock Holmes is brilliant." He announces. Everyone turns around to look at Sherlock, who glares at most of them.

"Sherlock, what did you learn today?" Miss Oswald asks him. Sherlock stands.

"I learned that there are four tolerable people in this class, and the others are either indifferent to or intolerable of me." Sherlock tells them before sitting down.

"Sherlock Holmes! You've only just met these people, how can you be so sure that they don't like you?" Miss Oswald asks.

"Simple. Seven people came up to me and three of them asked me to deduce them. The other four I just happened to deduce. Of the seven people, the three that asked me to tell them their life story were the ones that called me 'freak' or 'weirdo' or pushed me down. The four that didn't ask me responded to my deductions with varying degrees of acceptance. Unfortunately, I didn't get to interact with anyone else, so there may be other tolerable people in this class. However, of the seven people I interacted with, only four were kind to me. Therefore, my previous statement stands." Sherlock explains. Miss Oswald widens her eyes and looks to the rest of the class.

"Is this true?" She asks the class. Most of them look down at their desks.

"Yes, it is! I saw Michael tip over Sherlock's chair. And a few of the girls called him names!" John says, defending his new friend.

"Yeah, we saw!" James and Jake add.

"He j-just t-t-told them wh-what th-they w-want-ted." Morgan stutters out.

"Honestly, I don't understand why they reacted so negatively. I was only telling them things they already knew." Sherlock says with a shrug.

"So, they asked you to show them your ability and they got angry when you did?" Miss Oswald asks. Sherlock nods. "Who was it?"

"Janie Smith, Michael Brentwell, and Marion Pullman. Though, honestly, I would rather they weren't punished. They can't help that they're small minded and defensive." Sherlock tells Miss Oswald. Michael stands and draws the attention of the classroom.

"He's a bully! He can't say things like that!" Michael yells.

"I am not the bully here, you are. And I am only stating the truth, I apologize if my honesty offends you." Sherlock snaps.

"Boys! Enough. Sherlock, try to be nicer in your delivery. Michael, Janie, and Marion, I want to talk to you." Miss Oswald says. The trio stands and walks over to her desk. "While we're talking, I want you all to think of your dream job. We'll be using them in our next activity." She ushers the three students outside and the other nine begin thinking of jobs they would like.

"I'll make a list on the board!" Dinah suggests. The students each raised a hand and she wrote down the jobs they came up with. By the time Miss Oswald re-entered their list looked like this:

-Doctor

-Police Officer

-Firefighter

-Baker

-Librarian

-Reporter

-Mail Carrier

-Park Manager

-Artist

-Construction Worker

-Consulting Detective

"Very good class!" Miss Oswald complemented them. "Now, each of you are going to pick a job. You'll be doing this job for the rest of the school year, so choose wisely." Miss Oswald instructed. They each lined up beside her desk and she wrote their names beside the job they chose. In the end the list looked like this:

-Doctor: John Watson

-Police Officers: James and Jake Harkness

-Firefighter: Dean Wesson

-Baker: Dinah Wesson

-Librarian: Morgan Samuels

-Reporter: Marion Pullman

-Mail Carrier: Derek Greywell

-Park Manager: Janie Smith

-Artist: Martha Smith

-Construction Worker: Michael Brentwell

-Consulting Detective: Sherlock Holmes

"Miss Oswald?" Janie asks, waving her hand in the air to get the teacher's attention.

"Yes Janie?" She answers.

"What's a consulting detective?" Janie questions.

"Someone the police go to for help when they're out of their depth, which is always. I invented the job." Sherlock supplies.

"The police don't need help, they're the police. And they don't consult amateurs." Michael sneers. Sherlock turns his icy stare to the boy and narrows his eyes.

"I can tell that you're a bully from the way you stand, the reasons why Marion wants to be an actress from the wrinkles on her shirt, Janie's best friends name from the necklace she wears. I know which twin is which from looking at their hands, the source of Morgan's stutter from her hair and dress, and John's entire life from his jumper and they way he holds himself." Sherlock says. "So yes, you were right. The police don't consult amateurs. But I'm no amateur."

"Then why don't you just become a police officer?" Michael asks. "Instead of being selfish and only consulting, you could help the police full time." He sneers and crosses his arms. Sherlock sees John clench his fist, his entire body tensing.

"Because I don't want to be a police officer." Sherlock snaps.

"We don't mind" "If he wants to help." The twins interrupt. Their words dissolve the issue.

"Alright, let's go over the purpose of these jobs." Miss Oswald says, bringing the class back to attention. "John will be in charge of the first aid kit and things like inhalers and EPI pens. Jake and James, you'll in force the rules and solve any classroom crimes. Morgan will be in charge of the books we'll be reading this year. Dean will lead us in any drills. Dinah will be in charge of any food and take us to and from the cafeteria. Derek is in charge of handing out newsletters and things to take home. Martha is in charge of the supplies we use in class for projects. Marion will do morning announcements. Michael will set up the class for different subjects. Janie will make sure the classroom looks nice and will be in charge of clean up, not that you all won't help her. And Sherlock, well, you know what to do." She winks at him and checks the clock. "Ten minutes till lunch. You can talk among yourselves."

Sherlock and his new friend migrate to the far corner of the room, keeping to themselves.

"You know Sherlock" "You know pretty much everything about us" "But we don't know anything about you." The twins say. Sherlock looks at the four people around him and see them smiling at him.

"Very well. My parents are... Painfully normal. My mother is alright I suppose, but I can't stand them for too long. My brother Mycroft is like me, but he's more worried about what normal people think, more grounded in reality. He's five years older than me and my family's favorite. He already knows that he wants to occupy a minor position in the British government. My parents worry about my chosen vocation of consulting detective, though I don't understand why. I will be perfectly safe, as far as these things can be assured." Sherlock tells them.

"Parents worry. It's their thing." John tells him with a smile.

"And what about you John? What is your family like?" Sherlock asks the shorter boy. John tilts his head to the side slightly and raises an eyebrow.

"What happened to being able to tell my life story from my jumper?" John asks him with a smirk. Sherlock rolls his eyes at him.

"The fact that I know your life story does not mean that I know how you interact with your parents." Sherlock tell him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Uh, well, my mum's alright, when she's sober enough to notice us. My sister Harriet's the same, though she's not drunk as often. Harry recently realized she liked girls, and she tried to hide it from us for a while. She'd heard what other girls had gone through with their families, and she didn't want that. But we don't really care as long as she's happy. Dad's great. He's in the army, training people for when something happens. I want to go into the army because of that, but I also want to be a doctor. Of course, money's too tight for us to send me to college unless I get a full ride. Sorta why mum sent me here, so I could get a head-start." John keeps his eyes on the floor after he finishes.

"M-my d-d-dad b-beat m-me. Th-that's why I h-have a st-stut-t-ter." Morgan tells them suddenly. John's head shoots up and he stares at her with wide eyes. The twins look to each other, then back to Morgan. They lean over and give her a hug.

"Your stutter is treatable." Sherlock tells the brunette girl. She looks up at him with wide eyes. "My family knows several people who treat these sorts of things. Perhaps I could put in a good word for you." Sherlock suggests. Morgan's face lights up in a bright smile and she suddenly leans forward and wraps her arms around him. Sherlock sits there uncomfortably for a few seconds before tentatively wrapping and arm around her and patting her back. Morgan leans back and beams at him.

"Th-thank you." She tells him.

"As fun" "As this moment is" "We want to tell you" "About our family." The twins say. Morgan sits back into her seat and looks at them, wiping her eyes of the tears that had gathered there.

"We've just got a dad, Jack. We don't know who our mum is, but sometimes Dad talks about this bloke at his work that he likes." Jake starts.

"He's not gay though, he likes boys and girls." James adds. Jake nods in agreement. "His work sometimes takes him away for a long time, so we usually stay with our Aunt Sarah."

"We can't tell you what his work is though! It's classified." Jake tells them.

"That's why we want to be police! So we can help him with his work." James tells them. "But he's not a police officer or anything."

"We've also got a baby sister" "Named Jane" "After our Aunt Sarah." They tell them, almost proudly.

The door creaks open and all heads turn to look at the intruder. A man with messy brown hair pokes his head in with a curious expression.

"Miss Oswald?" He asks. The woman in question looks up and over to him, her face instantly adopting a grin.

"Come in Mr Logan!" She calls. He steps in, giving everyone a good look at his white converse underneath his brown pinstriped suit.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you had grabbed my lunch. It's not where I usually put it, and I already asked Mr Boe, Ms Jones, Ms Noble, Mr McLeod, and Ms Bradbury. None of them have it, and you're the only other person I could think of that might." Mr Logan sums up. Ms Oswald gives him a long suffering looks.

"Did you check your fridge?"

"Yes! And my desk drawer, and the cupboard!" Ms Oswald rolls her eyes.

"Did you try the one in the kitchen?" He looks at her with exasperation.

"Yes! Ro- Ms Oswald, I know you have it, I can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. Will you please hand it over?" Mr Logan pleads. Ms Oswald grins at him and reaches under her desk, producing a plastic bag from a fish-and-chips shop.

"Just so you know, it was sitting on the roof of your car when I got here this morning." She teases him as she hand it over. Mr Logan blushes and rubs the back of his neck as he takes it.

"Oh. Well, thank you. I'll see you later then." He says as he walks back out of the door.

"Goodbye!" Ms Oswald calls after him with a laugh. She shakes her head at his idiocy.

"Rose." Sherlock says suddenly. Ms Oswald looks up and over to him, her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry?" She asks him. The class turns their attention to him.

"Your name, it's Rose." He clarifies.

"How did-?" She cuts herself off.

"Mr Logan nearly said it. But I also figured it our due to the perfume you wear and the necklace you wear. Both roses, though the necklace shows a pink and yellow one specifically. It has great sentimental value for you, and I'm guessing Mr Logan gave it to you, judging from how you kept playing with it while he was in here." Sherlock explains. Rose smiles at him.

"Well, aren't you a clever one? Yes, my name is Rose. Yes John, Mr Logan, gave me this necklace." Rose confirms. "But we're colleagues and friends, nothing more." She points the last remark to the rest of the class, along with a small glare. Sherlock knows that she wants it to be more, and that Mr Logan feels the same, but he's not going to say anything. Not yet at least. "Okay then, now that that small crisis was averted, we can leave for lunch. Dinah, you're going to lead the way. Every one, grab what you need and line up at the door."

The class is a flurry of activity as everyone pulls out lunch bags or money. Sherlock stays where he is and waits for his 'group' to line up before he joins them. Dinah leads them down the hallways to the cafeteria and they disperse to different tables. Sherlock follows John and Morgan to a table and sits down. The twins join the queue for lunch, having brought money instead of a bag lunch.

"Don't you have food?" John asks the future consulting detective.

"No." Sherlock answers offhandedly.

"When was the last time you ate?" John demands.

"Depends." He remarks.

"On what?" John pushes.

"The date." Sherlock answers dismissively.

"Sherlock! You need to eat!" John tells his friend loudly.

"Why?" He asks sharply.

"B-because your b-body n-needs n-nurishm-ment." Morgan supplies.

"It only slows me down. My brain is what matters, everything else is transport." Sherlock explains to them snappishly.

"Even cars need to be refueled! You can't function if you don't get nutrients regularly!" John snaps. Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Fine! I will eat lunch everyday unless on a case, is that acceptable?" He asks. John and Morgan exchange a look and nod.

"Yeah, I guess that's okay." John concedes. The twins join them and sit down next to each other.

"Aren't you eating Sherlock?" James asks, tilting his head.

"Forgot my lunch." Sherlock answers after exchanging a glance with John. The twins look at each other and push over a piece of their lunch each. John and Morgan do the same and Sherlock ends up with an apple, a roll, a bag of pretzels and a juice pouch. Sherlock blinks at the food and looks up at the four people sitting around him. A small smile finds its way onto his face as he looks at his first friends. These four people had no idea what a massive impact they had just had on the curly haired boy in front of him, but they knew that they would be a part of his life for a long time.

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**There you have it. The first chapter. I had to change a few things from what I had originally written, but that happens. Hope every one likes it! I feel like this is going to be a really long fic, might even be a series.**

**Ten points to whoever can catch all the references I made. I'll list them at the beginning of the next chapter and give a mention to whoever caught them.**


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